


The One Where We're Shoveling Piles of Shit

by SharksKnow



Category: The Witcher (TV)
Genre: Banter, Cause that scene wrecked me, First Kiss, First Time, First Time Blow Jobs, Fix-It of Sorts, Getting Lost Together, Hand Jobs, M/M, jaskier's pov, someone likes it rough
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-19
Updated: 2020-03-19
Packaged: 2021-02-28 22:07:38
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 5,887
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23214529
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SharksKnow/pseuds/SharksKnow
Summary: Geralt and Jaskier leave the mountain together after the incident with the dragon and Geralt's tantrum, get lost, Jaskier manages to poison himself, they talk (not really, thanks to Geralt) and Jaskier discovers that his feelings for Geralt might not be entirely platonic, things happen.
Relationships: Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia/Jaskier | Dandelion
Comments: 10
Kudos: 224





	1. Catastrophes and disasters

**Author's Note:**

> This is my first fanfiction that made it to completion and also the first fic I'm gonna post! English is not my first language, please be kind and gentle *wink*

“If life could give me one blessing it would be to take _you_ off my hands.”

Jaskier blinked. After waking up alone on a mountain with everyone else gone, after hours, days of walking up said mountain, almost falling to death and Geralt disappearing into Yennefer's tent for the night - was this supposed to be his thanks? It wasn't fair. "You know what? Fuck you! This was your idea. The expedition. You wanted to go as soon as you saw _her_." He couldn't keep the venom out of his words.

Geralt turned around, only to frown at him.

"I'm sorry it didn't work out the way you imagined" - he wasn't, not entirely - "but that's hardly my fault."

Geralt looked like he wanted to answer, but didn't.

"If you're done now, I'd love to get of this shitty rock with... with dragons and other weird creatures with sharp teeth."

Geralt didn't move a muscle.

"Oh, great! Just ignore me then. I'm just gonna go without you and hope I don't come across whatever killed the people on the way." He stalked of and only dared to look around if Geralt was following him when the path went around a slope and he was sure that Geralt wouldn't notice. Which he couldn't either way because he was still staring into the distance, motionless.

The dwarfs were gone, the old somehow-still-alive guy had disappeared, only a few corpses in front of a cave, that screamed to be explored, but not on his own. He huddled past it, not looking inside, but sincerely hoping, that whatever killed those men wasn't still lurking in the darkness. Alive for some witchery reasons. Normally he wasn't too afraid, either because he had Geralt by his side or because humanoid creatures loved fame and songs about themselves. Usually more than killing, but he wasn't sure if that was true for dragons as well.

He made his way to the camp. It had remained untouched. Everyone else gone, his lute and little belongings next to a stone. He got on his knees to strap the bedroll to his bag. He couldn't bring himself to stand up. He was hungry, tired and his neck was stiff. The blackened ground where their campfire had burned and the small shelter the dwarfs had built the only traces of their hunt. He tugged at a lose seam of his bag.

"You coming?", Geralt asked from the path above, he sounded emotionless and gruff like ever.

Jaskier hadn't heard him coming, but struggled to his feet and threw his bag and his lute over his shoulder. Geralt wasn't going to leave him here.

He clambered up to the path and jogged after Geralt who had started walking again as soon as Jaskier moved. "We can't use the same route we took on our way here." Which wasn't too bad. Even without watching people fall from rotten planks and miraculously come to life afterwards, the climbing had taken at least five years of his life expectancy.

Geralt grunted in what Jaskier hoped was agreement. They did take a different path that led them to the backside of the mountain and then meandered back to where they came from losing only little altitude and Jaskier understood why the dwarfs had suggested a different path. Geralt was silent as ever, but foul mood evaporated from him like a dark aura and for once Jaskier didn't feel like talking or trying to change his sullen state of mind. If Geralt truly wanted him to leave it could wait until they had climbed down and reached the valley.

Though Jaskier couldn't keep from wondering. It was widely known that Witchers weren't feeling human emotions, but whatever was happening in Geralt looked a lot like he was experiencing _something_. Even if it only manifested as anger. And Jaskier was the one he took it out on.

The more he thought about it - the child surprise, the Djinn - ... He might have brought Geralt into the situations, but Geralt had made the actual decisions on his own, sometimes against Jaskier’s advice. Like the expedition. All of this only for the mage. The crazy mage.

He didn't like Yennefer for objective reasons, of course. Though, to be honest, Geralt staying in her tent the entire night and leaving him on a windy cliff might have... not made it better.

She'd probably just portalled out of the situation, while the two of them had to take the long way down.

Why was Geralt so fascinated by her anyway? Sure, she didn't look bad, but besides that... She was powerful and didn't rely on Geralt, but neither did he. Him and Geralt - it was some sort of mutually beneficial relationship. Symbiosis.

He stepped on a root that was wet for some reason and his foot lost grip. He fell unceremoniously to his ass. Only sitting he realized how steep the mountain fell to his left.

Geralt who had been a few steps ahead had turned around and when Jaskier didn't get up immediately, he climbed back up and wordlessly extended a hand.

Jaskier took it and let himself be pulled up. Geralt squeezed his wrist close to painful.

"Careful."

"I didn't plan on dying here. There are still so many things to do." He wriggled his hand.

Geralt let go, but shot him a glare. "Walk ahead of me."

"So that I can't drag you into this demise, too?"

"So that I can grab you and keep you from falling."

That was actually nice thinking and it came close to an apology. "Thanks."

Moving past Geralt on the narrow path didn't seem like the best idea, though. After tentatively stepping forward and back again and peering around Geralt, the Witcher grabbed both his wrist and managed to maneuver Jaskier around him. Their chests brushed and Jaskier's stomach did a weird flippy thing. Was he afraid of heights all of a sudden? He normally wasn't, but being shoved around on a mountain path could probably do that to everyone.

"You're really testing my patience, bard," Geralt growled.

Bard. That again. "I have a name and since you've used it before, I know that you know."

Jaskier started walking and Geralt followed.

They made a short break at a waterfall, that was more of a rivulet this time of year. For some reason they were still moving away from where they originally started their journey and the path still lead further away. "Is that... Are we on the right way?"

He'd been caught up in his thoughts, only walked where Geralt had led him. Since the Witcher had never gone lost before, it seemed like a wise course. But maybe this whole ordeal was taking a bigger toll on Geralt than he let on. Maybe Jaskier should have paid more attention on where they were going.

Geralt starred in both directions a furrow in his brow.

Jaskier ran his hand through his damp hair. “I mean… I don’t know how it’s supposed to look. The dwarfs said that is longer, but that long?”

“I didn’t see any other paths.”

Neither did Jaskier, but that didn’t mean there weren’t any. He kept the comment to himself. There was no use in fighting again. “Well - it leads down the mountain. Worst case, we’d have to make a little detour through the valley.”

“Hm.”

Very helpful. Thanks for weighing in. Might also be a massive detour. "As always, I have no idea what's going on in your head, but if there’s anything you wanna talk about…” He trailed off and took a sip from his flask instead, that he’d filled at the ripple of water. He wrinkled his nose, it tasted weird. “You know I can listen in addition to talking a lot.”

“Mh.”

“And I love interpreting random noises.”

“Mhm.”

“Agreement?”

“Mhm.”

“Nice. Normal conversations are completely overrated anyway.” He turned to keep following their not so trustworthy path. “For the record, if this gets us a five day detour and leads through the cave of a bear, I asked you if we should continue here.”

“Mhm.”

Yup, this one was going to blow up in his face at some point. He was used to a silent Witcher, but normally that Witcher didn’t outsource decisions like this to him. Time for a round of ‘Can I make you talk?’ and he knew just the right thing to say. “Would you laugh if I stubbed my toe?”

“Probably.”

Jaskier: 1, Geralt:0.

~~~

The path wasn’t particularly pleasant, but the impending danger of misstepping, falling and dying was enough to keep his mind to the task at hand.

The next time the path widened, Jaskier stopped. There was still enough daylight left to continue walking for a bit, but who knew if they'd reach another place where they could make camp before sundown and there were many things he'd rather do than climbing down a mountain at night. Also he was exhausted.

Geralt made no objections.

There was enough space for both of them to lie down, not enough for a campfire. No fire meant no food. His stomach grumbled. Not ideal, a little rocky and windy, but it would do for one night. He knelt down to spread out his bed roll and had to grab it, when a sudden gust threatened to blow it away and made him shiver. Maybe it was a little less than ideal place to sleep, but he'd probably be out as soon as his head hit the pillow that he had folded out of his only spare shirt.

Geralt settled down two steps from him.

Jaskier put a big stone on top of his bag and wedged his lute case between it and a boulder poking out of the hillside, before he dropped down on his rumpled, makeshift bed. He took off his shoes and placed them underneath his sleeping bag where his feet would go. He wasn't going to hop down that mountain on one foot. Otherwise fully clothed he crawled into his sleeping bag.

How could it be so cold in the middle of summer? He had inwardly laughed about the mage when she turned up in what looked like a winter coat with fur on the edges, but it started to make sense.

Between his teeth rattling and his stomach protesting it would be a little harder to find sleep, but he'd been in worse situations - much worse. At first he tried lying on his back which was unbearable with the wind. He rolled to his side, facing the wind and Geralt with his back and blew at his hands to keep them from shaking.

It wasn't that cold. The wind wasn't that cold. Then why was he freezing? He gripped one hand with the other to keep it still. He didn't eat anything weird, the mage hopefully hadn't cursed him... The water! It had tasted stale and faintly of mold. Maybe Geralt had noticed anything. "Are you cold? Do you feel weird?", he asked.

A sound of negation.

"I think the water might have been bad."

"I don't feel anything."

"That's good, cause if you felt it I'd probably be dead. Which reminds me..." He struggled with his sleeping bag. "I'm gonna be sick." Nausea hit him like a slap in the face. He couldn't get his feet out fast enough so he crept to the edge of the plateau like a caterpillar where he through up. Coughing, stomach heaving, snot running out of his nose and tears down his cheeks he realized what Geralt must have been after. In only one day he had managed to get them lost and poison himself.

Chaos and disaster tended to follow him and it made for excellent stories, but living through it was crap. It should have been a story about the glorious victory of an unlikely hunting party over a dragon. Instead he was considering sleeping on the edge of a cliff to not be suffocated by his own vomit in his sleep. Hoping that the wind wouldn't blow him down. But after the events of the day he didn't feel like pushing his luck and crawled back to where he'd originally laid down.

He was still shivering and suddenly very aware of the fact that he would probably spend the night awake.

Movement behind him. "I can't sleep like this."

"You?! You can't…"

An arm dropped over his side and pulled him in.

Jaskier fell silent. With Geralt solid at his back instead of unrelenting gusts, sleep didn't seem unachievable anymore. He was still a little cold, but Geralt's warmth slowly bled through the layers of fabric. If it weren't for his roiling stomach and the sour taste in his mouth this would actually be nice. Not just comfortable in a physical way. In a different setting, if things were different somehow... Which they weren't. No need for his brain to go there.

Geralt's even breath ghosted over his ear and for a change he didn't feel like the next catastrophe was already waiting to happen. He could get used to this. _No! Bad brain!_ It was Geralt and Yennefer. This right now was happening because Geralt felt bad for him and maybe he still wanted to part ways when they reached the valley. His stomach clenched and a violent shiver ran down his spine.

He'd deal with that later. Besides his own sinister thoughts nothing was keeping him from enjoying this moment. Although thinking about why he found it enjoyable also seemed like a dangerous thing to do, but that didn't matter right now. It was too good to overthink.

Maybe he was delirious and about to die - better live in the moment - just in case.

He nestled closer and somehow Geralt pulled him in tighter. Unconsciously. He was sure the Witcher was fast asleep by now.

This time his chest did the flippy thing. _Oh no_. His eyes flew open. Did he like Geralt? Like like like?

Was he jealous of Yennefer? Jealous that Geralt was so obnoxiously in love with her, because somehow he wanted him for himself?

Jaskier had always enjoyed their two-persons-adventures. Was that the reason? Was that the reason he followed this grumpy man around without complaint and even tried to cheer him up? He surely didn't go with him for entertainment. There were nicer people out there, with interesting stories, or at least okay stories that would turn out good enough, when you tweaked them a little. Also, he could have waited at the Inn for the hunting party to return and collect the story there. No hardships, no dangerous creatures, no Geralt. Shit. He'd very much liked to turn around and bury his face in Geralt's broad chest. And there was the answer to all his questions.

Of all the catastrophes, disasters and entanglements he could bring himself into, why this one?


	2. The Size of the Palace Tower of Cintra

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And now on to the saucy part! Still my first fic, still not my first language, not beta'd - we die like men - eh, Jaskier?

He didn't plan to but at some point he must've fallen asleep and he only woke up when Geralt stirred behind him and softly grumbled in his sleep. It was already dawning, another cloudless, sunny day, but it was too comfortable, too warm and cozy to get up. He closed his eyes, already dozing off, when he noticed something. Oh shit! His relief about being the little spoon increased exponentially. He was rock hard. It was morning of course, but he was a grown man and normally... Well, he was grown enough to know why his body reacted the way it did.

He tried to edge away a bit, only to be pulled back in by a growling but still sleeping Geralt. His cheeks were hot, everything was hot, he couldn't move and suddenly it became t oo much. He somehow got his arms out of his sleeping bag and squirmed free, leaving an unhappy expression on Geralt's face, who then batted his eyes open.

His body didn't take issue with that and instead took interest in Geralt's shifted shirt and the exposed clavicle underneath. There was no way he was coming out of his sleeping bag now.

They starred at each other. When the eye contact got uncomfortable Jaskier lowered his gaze to his feet.

He heard Geralt getting up and a hand appeared in his line of sight. "Your flask."

"What?"

"I'm going to look for water."

Right. Water. His mouth was dry and still tasted weird. A kingdom for a leaf of peppermint or something like that. He crawled to his bag, hindered by the sleeping bag and retrieved his flask, extending his arm towards Geralt. He took it and climbed up the hillside.

Jaskier’s gaze was glued to his figure. He wrestled with his tussled hair. This was bad. On so many levels. Actually it was kind of impressing how such a little thing could fuck with your life. The only thing he knew for sure was that he'd never tell Geralt. But being around him without telling him seemed insincere, too. And what if they ran into Yennefer again? But not going with Geralt had already been a weird notion before his epiphany yesterday and now…

After Geralt returned with fresh water and some sort of berries, Jaskier's inconvenience had reduced itself to uninvited mental images of Geralt in a bathtub and his legs worked well enough to continue their way. At least Geralt walked behind him again and Jaskier didn't have to stare at his frame the entire time. But would it be too bad? Geralt's physique was impressive, there was no denying it. Especially wet and with water running down his chest, lower, down to his... No! He wasn't going there.

Never before had the thought of Geralt washing himself under a stream brought him anything else but a slight shiver cause the water was probably cold as the ass of a Drowner. It had transformed over night. Sure, he'd always been impressed by how ripped Geralt was, but everyone was, right? And whenever he got a look at Geralt's countless scars he HAD to imagine how it would feel like to trace them with his fingertips. Besides feeling bad for their owner and about what he had to endure getting them.

He had to get his mind back under control. Out of the gutter. The day passed by with walking (it was definitely the wrong path) and his thoughts circling around a certain Witcher without coming up with anything new.

The only good thing: They finally reached the tree line and the shade of what looked a lot like birches saved them from the afternoon sun. But it also meant that they were bound to reach the valley the next day or the day after. He had to talk to Geralt about whether he wanted him to leave. In case he wanted Jaskier to stay, he’d consider telling him about the recent developments concerning his emotional state.

They reached a tiny stream and Geralt put down his bag. “Camp?”

Yes, please. “Sure.”

“You’re being quiet.”

_Cause I spent my day thinking about your chest, made-up scenarios and how fucked I am in reality_ . “Just tired and my stomach still feels a little funny.”

“Hm.” Geralt stalked off. Probably to find them something to eat. After watching him leave – broad back, broad back - Jaskier set out to find tinder and dried leaves. He’d somehow managed to start a fire when Geralt returned with a dead rabbit in his hands.

They ate in silence and sat in silence afterwards, since Jaskier still didn’t feel like talking. Well, he did, but he was scared that beside innocent chatter other things might slip out, so he resorted to a Geralt-like state and staring into the fire.

Even without Geralt behind him, he’d still have the fire to keep him warm. He rolled out his sleeping bag and placed it as close to the fire as possible without it going up in flames. Since when did he get cold that easily?  _Maybe you’re not cold, just lonely_ , a helpful voice in his head supplied.

“Are you coming?” Geralt was already tugged into his worn blanket.

“What? Where? Me?” He looked at Geralt to see if he was making fun of him, but his features where serious. Of course they were.

“With you next to me, I was able to sleep.”

Of all the things Jaskier had thought about, this hadn’t crossed his mind once. “Sure. Yeah. I guess.”

To stop himself from rambling he rose to his feet, gathering his bedroll and placing it next to Geralt between him and the fire. He crawled inside and turned his back to Geralt, still keeping distance. Distance that Geralt closed, when he wrapped his arm around Jaskier.

If things were different somehow, this would be really good. Really good. But they weren’t. He was Geralt’s barbiturate, after he managed to screw things up with the Djinn.

Geralt shifted behind him.

“If you’re uncomfortable, I can just...”

“Lift your head.”

Instead of leaving, he awkwardly raised his head.

Geralt pushed his arm underneath. “Last night my arm went numb,” he explained.

Jaskier lowered his head. Geralt’s biceps made for a good pillow, who would have thought? Actually it was to be expected, considering… No! Not again. He closed his eyes. Geralt had gotten rid of his jacket and it was only the thin linen of his shirt, that separated skin from skin. He smelled like wood, the breeze that had surrounded them and a bit of salt, sweat and ocean. It added up to a quite enticing combination. He was probably the only person who smelled good after days on the road. Or they both smelled terrible and Jaskier had just gotten used to it. Or the proximity had stolen his ability to think. He backed up a little into Geralt until they were pressed flush against each other.

Geralt hugged him tighter and Jaskier couldn’t help the pleased, low sound escaping his throat. He froze. Shit, shit, shit. Geralt didn’t budge, though. He probably overheard or he didn’t mind. Jaskier’s imagination didn’t need more than that and their suggestive position to go wild. He didn’t have a lot of experience with men, but enough to be able to picture what he hadn’t experienced.

His body reacted in foreseeable ways and he was barely able to fight off pushing back against Geralt harder. He had to tell him. It wasn’t right. Geralt had decent intentions and Jaskier… “I… Um…” But how? “I don’t want to leave when we get down from here.”

“Then don’t.”

“I really, really don’t want to leave.” He doubted that Geralt would catch his meaning. Who could? Certainly not Geralt of all people.

“I’m sorry.”

For what? Not liking you back? Jaskier quelled his rising panic. “For what?”

“For what I said on the summit.”

That was… unexpected. “It’s okay. I already figured that out myself.”

“Good.”

And that was that. Except Jaskier wasn’t done yet. The impact of Geralt’s low voice close to his ear had made that very clear. The nervous knot in his stomach drew impossibly tighter. If he didn’t spill it now, he was going to puke again. “Look, Geralt, I...” Damn, it was hard. “I like you.” There it was. He pressed his fist to his mouth and held his next breath, waiting for an answer.

“That’s what I figured by myself.”

What?! There was nothing to stop his panic now. Breathe. “How?”, he pressed out between his teeth.

“You acting all weird, being jealous of Yen, staring at me when you think I won’t notice.”

_Yen_ . He felt the need to hit something and moved for Geralt to let go.

Only he didn’t. “Wait. I’m not saying I never thought about this.”

The water they’d had this evening had been bad, too. Jaskier was hearing things, he was delusional. There was no other explanation.

“I like having you around. I can sleep when you’re close.”

“You do?”

Geralt ignored him. “I can’t promise you anything. I’m not good with things like this.”

Jaskier had to remind himself to keep breathing. “Me neither. Try?”

“Turn around.” Geralt loosened his grip and Jaskier followed his order to face him. This was the best and simultaneously the worst idea ever.

They were close. Really close. Geralt’s face was dimly lit by the fire. Glowing amber in shadowed features. Shit. If Jaskier wanted this to work, he’d have to move before his nerves got to him and ruined this. He leaned in and pressed his lips against Geralt’s. Warm, slightly chaffed skin, opening a little, kissing him back. The knot in his belly caught fire, shot sparks. His breath came uneven, he pushed back a little, one hand splayed out on Geralt’s chest, the other buried in the silky strands of white hair.

“Eager?” A low rumble against Jaskier’s lips.

This close he almost felt the corners of Geralt’s mouth twitching.

“You bet. I built this up in my head for the last days.” He nudged Geralt to his back and dove down. Their tongues met, Geralt’s teeth grazed his bottom lip and a low moan escaped Jaskier’s mouth. This was happening. He had to get out of his sleeping bag. He wiggled a little, brushing his crotch against Geralt's thigh. He had to give it his everything to not grind against Geralt and give him second thoughts.

If Geralt felt the hardness pressed against him, he didn't mind. His hands roamed over Jaskier's shoulders, found the nape of his neck and carded through his hair. He tried to pull Jaskier on top of him, put Jaskier retreated, panting a little. "If... Honestly I won't …"

"So?" Geralt's voice was even lower, huskier like this and Jaskier couldn't... His restraint was melting.

"This might be..." He lost his train of thought with Geralt's hand trailing down from his jaw over his chest to his stomach. "You know... Bad for our friendship." Patting the hand away might have been one of the most difficult endeavors he ever undertook. Now that it was happening he felt like a snowflake becoming part of an avalanche. If this gained traction... He didn't want to loose Geralt who for once watched him tentatively.

"It's just... I think I'd rather go with you without anything," he gestured between the two of them, "happening than this going wrong and us parting ways." No matter how much he wanted this, he'd rather have Geralt around. "I just needed you to know."

A sharp frown appeared on Geralt's features. "So you got both of us hot and bothered just for the insight that you'd rather leave things the way they are?"

"I really don't want to lose you," he said without thinking to o much about it, then "Wait. Hot and bothered... Both of us?"

Geralt rolled his eyes, caught one of Jaskier's hands and pressed it down on a significant bulge. "Oh," escaped Jaskier. Very intelligent.

"Let's make a deal then." A somewhat hungry grin tore at Geralt's mouth. "We'll go ahead now and just act normal tomorrow."

That actually sounded good. Foolproof. "I'm in." He ran his hand through Geralt's hair again. "Only one thing, though. I really need to get rid of my sleeping bag. Preferably now."

Geralt nodded and held up his blanket.

Jaskier got stuck halfway, but wiggled free in the end. "Maybe we should…"

Geralt already wrestled with his shirt. Perfect! Plains of light skin bared, covered in scars t oo many to count. Jaskier undressed down to his pants, after Geralt kept his on. Golden eyes roamed over him.

"What?" Jaskier suppressed the need to cross his arms in front of his body.

"You've seen me naked a lot, you on the other hand…"

Jaskier grinned. Now that he thought about it, he'd pretty much seen every part of Geralt. "That should teach you a thing or two about modesty."

"You don't ever shut up, do you?" Geralt grabbed his wrist and pulled.

Jaskier went down with a yelp. He had the presence of mind to shift his weight so he landed next to Geralt. "If you want to get kneed where it hurts - that's how you do it."

"Shut up." Geralt rolled on top, pressing Jaskier to the ground and sealing his lips in a kiss. Very determined. Even propped up on his elbows he was heavy. Not in a bad way. In a solid, grounding and - he pushed his leg between Jaskier's. Definitely in a good way. Jaskier ground up against the friction and a small moan escaped him. "Please tell me you have some sort of oily substance in your backpack - without any witchery side effects."

Silence, then a negatory grunt.

Jaskier swore into their kiss. "I've seen how you're built down there. Not taking that without lube."

"I didn't say you should."

"Other plans or suggestions?"

Geralt shifted a little, snuck his hand between them and palmed Jaskier through his pants.

"That - aah - should work, too." He ran his hands over Geralt's shoulders. The countless scars. One day - if he was lucky enough - he'd touch each of them and learn their stories. Right now he just wanted to feel, to indulge.

Fingers grazed the fastening of Jaskier’s pants, Geralt’s eyes closed - shame, they were beautiful - , his brow furrowed in something like concentration.

Jaskier pressed another greedy, breathless kiss to his lips and trailed a hand down to help with his own pants and move on to Geralt's. Skin on skin. Geralt dropped his head to Jaskier's clavicle with a growl. The sound shot right into Jaskier's groin. What that man could do to him…

Geralt rolled to his side. Jaskier instantly missed his weight and warmth, but like this they had enough space between them to – Geralt closed his hand around Jaskier’s dick. His mind went blank in the rush of fingers moving around him. He pushed into the touch.

“Fuck…,” he sighed, brought his head to Geralt’s chest, ran his hand down over muscles covered in scars and dropped it to Geralt’s dick. Hot, velvety skin beneath his palm. Geralt took a shuddering breath. Jaskier would make him lose his composure. He matched the pace of their hands. Most probably he did to Jaskier what he liked himself.

Geralt alternated between slow, spacious strokes and quick, urgent jerks that had Jaskier panting. He gently bit into the muscle of Geralt’s chest. Geralt groaned and Jaskier kissed the light marks, drawing a series of harsh breath’s from Geralt.

He wasn’t going to last. It was building inside him, all the madness, the fire, the tension that was making his abdominals jump…

“Fuck…” He stifled a moan with his lips against at Geralt’s clavicle. “I’m gonna...”

It seemed to spur Geralt on, his hand moving faster and Jaskier felt like he was drowning. Geralt’s smell, the closeness, the only thing keeping him above the waterline. Close to sobbing he buried his face in Geralt’s neck as his senses whitened out and he spilled over Geralt’s hand.

“That was…,” he mumbled. Awesome? He lacked an accurate description.

Apart from the fact that he hadn’t made Geralt lose it, but there was still time and now that he had his marbles halfway together again…

He pushed Geralt on his back and rolled over with him, kissing a line from his neck over his chest down his stomach.

Geralt’s fingers in his hair, the other hand grabbing for Jaskier’s. “You don’t have to.”

_But I want to._ He squeezed the hand and continued his way down. Nibbling, biting, licking wet stripes over bumpy scar tissue, while slowly working his hand on Geralt’s dick. He relished in the ragged breaths, but it wasn’t enough, not by far.

He didn’t have any experience with giving head, besides being the recipient, but he was dead set on making it work. He took his hand away and focused on Geralt’s hipbones and his thighs, circling closer.

“Jaskier.” Warning tone of voice, pressed out between his teeth.

_Who is eager now?_ He leaned down over Geralt’s dick and pressed a kiss to the tip and carefully took it into his mouth.

It was a little weird, but Geralt’s sharp intake of breath and the hissed curse, made it worth it.

He experimentally ran his tongue over the underside and sucked. He took one hand to cover what didn’t fit in his mouth and pressed the other hand to Geralt's stomach, the muscles beneath his fingers tensed.

He found a rhythm, that had Geralt cursing again and tugging Jaskier’s hair slightly. He quickened the pace until pants transformed into groans.

“Fuck...” Geralt’s free hand on the blanket next to them was clenched into a fist, knuckles turned white.

There was one other thing Jaskier wanted to try... On his next upstroke he let only the hint of his teeth graze over taut skin.

"Fu... do that again."

He complied. Two, three times. Geralt's hips bucked against his mouth, only the slightest movement, need tangible. "Faster."

He sped up.

"Jas..."

Geralt's whole body tensed, Jaskier felt him twitch inside his mouth. He swallowed the salty liquid, reluctantly let go and crawled up next to Geralt.

He couldn't interpret the look Geralt gave him and just layed down next to him, pulling his sleeping bag up over his chest.

Without it being weird... He hoped he could do that. Loosing Geralt, loosing this, would destroy him. “Why? Why me?” The words bubbled over his lips before he could intervene. Shit.

Silence, then: “You’re here. You’re real. Everything about you is real and still – you didn’t run. You never did.”

Something deep inside Jaskier welted and bloomed at the same time. Before he had time to think about it, Geralt grabbed his hand, pulled him half onto his chest and drew the blanket over them.  
With his head on Geralt's shoulder, breathing him in - he somehow smelled even better than before and now Jaskier was sure he'd just gotten used to them being smelly - it was hard to entertain dark thoughts. He stretched and shifted a little to get more comfortable. "You know, we could wait a little and then do it again."

"I thought humans don't have that endurance."

He gave Geralt's nipple a punishing flick. "Excuse me! I'm twenty nine, not dead or an old man like you."

"If you wake me up once I've fallen asleep, I'm gonna strangle you."

"Is that a promise?"

Geralt sighed. "I'm never gonna play pillow for you again."

_Killjoy!_ "I won't wake you up."

It didn't take more than a few moments until Geralt's breaths evened out.

Jaskier marveled at his profile and ran a finger through his chest hair. This was a surprisingly good ending to a shitty journey. Now the only thing he had to do was to convince Geralt that this was an awesome idea they definitely needed to pursue.

His gaze dropped to Geralt's lips. He wanted to see his face when he came, he wanted to see how far he could push him, he wanted him to lose control, he wanted to fuck him and get fucked.

_Great!_ Good for Geralt that being next to Jaskier helped him sleep. Apparently it didn't work like that the other way around. How was he supposed to sleep with a - self-inflicted, but still - boner the size of the palace tower of Cintra? 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Me and Jaskier both have ideas for a sequel(s) and with being in COVID-19 quarantine I just might have the time on my hands to write it. But I kept bitching and whining over this one - sorry to everyone who had to suffer through my creative process - so it might take a while. At least until I forget how long it took to write this one.
> 
> (Now who would have thought Geralt likes it a little rough?? Not me, nu-uh, but Jaskier is always happy to help - AAAAH, so many head canons!!)

**Author's Note:**

> I didn't plan for this to get so lengthy, sorry... BUT imo those two need to work through quite a few things before anything substantial can happen. And I still took a shortcut. Sorry for poisoning you, Jaskier! Trust me, it'll be worth it!  
> Also, it turns out I LOVE Jaskier's POV, so much fun to write!


End file.
